


the fortress you built is shattering

by rinnosgen



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Light Angst, Sexual Content, season 2 episode 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26828938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinnosgen/pseuds/rinnosgen
Summary: “The thing is, Eve, nobody has the ability to make me submit.”
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 8
Kudos: 74
Collections: Killing Eve Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [the fortress you built is shattering](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26828599) by [rinnosgen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinnosgen/pseuds/rinnosgen). 



> It's a canon divergence of 207. I had a great time writing the dialogue, and a tough time translating it. All errors are mine :P  
> Anyway hope yall like it and happy reading :)

From the sounds Eve makes when she closes the door, strides, puts down the handbag, and takes off the coat, Villanelle can tell that she is not in a good mood. Eve’s anger may or may not be caused by her, and Villanelle actually couldn’t care less, for Eve’s often in a state of fury, and Villanelle has gotten used to it.

Disregarding, Villanelle lies on the bed in the same position, turning a page of the Penguin Dictionary of Philosophy. Eve walks to the bed, a pile of heavy folder is nearly smashed into Villanelle’s elbow. She glances at Eve’s unpleasant face, then she looks back at the definition of _abstract_ in the dictionary. Villanelle’s clearly aware that this kind of behaviour will only piss Eve off even more, but it’s her nature, Villanelle loves playing with fire.

“Have you ever read anything I gave you?” Eve questions.

“Not that I remember,” Villanelle answers without looking up from the book. “Hmm, I don’t think so.”

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, Villanelle,” Eve says. Villanelle fakes a vexing sign. She closes the book, puts it down, and gazes at Eve.

“Why would I bother? They’re boring,” Villanelle pushes away the files beside her, knocking them until they’re almost off the bed.

“You have to read them. It’s you job.”

“Is my job obeying any order you give me? I doubt that’s the agreement I signed.”

“You contract says you work for MI6.”

“No, Eve. I work for _you_.”

Villanelle crawls towards Eve and lifts up her eyes.

“You said you needed my help, and you’d give me everything I want, so I gave in,” she says. Eve’s lips form a thin line.

“The only thing I’ve ever received since that day is your cold shoulder. Tell me, Eve, how can I help you with my whole heart when you are not treating me warmly?” Villanelle grabs on the hem of Eve’s jacket, pulling it slightly. Eve hastily shoves away her hand.

“Do you really think a stupid contract can make me follow all your rules?” she raises an eyebrow. Eve stares at her in silence. The look Eve gives her at this moment is as sharp, heated, and fully piercing as the blade in Paris. Villanelle indulges herself in the look. She has imagined scenarios where she is entered by Eve with anything but a pointed knife, and this, is one of them.

“I’m a person, Eve,” she highlights. Eve scoffs, Villanelle finds it mildly insulting. “I do what I want. I handle things without files. You know my M.O.”

“That’s not how things work, Villanelle,” Eve says. For a brief moment, she looks exhausted, and Villanelle’s heart twitches with Eve’s changes of masks in this tiny minute. Villanelle knows she could talk to Eve in a softened humour, and furthermore, pretend to be concerned of Eve’s condition as if she were a hypocritical meddler. However, Villanelle also knows, considering Eve’s ego, Eve would not leave herself to be dealt with like this. Villanelle is certain of what Eve needs. She only has to push Eve harder, helping Eve be in the most appropriate mindset to express herself.

Villanelle is not challenging Eve. She is, on the contrary, guiding Eve.

“I know how things work, Eve. I even know what you’ve been up to. You’re trying to manipulate me, aren’t you?” Villanelle says. She sees Eve’s flushing cheeks and neck.

“You think you’ve managed it. You think you’ve managed to control me, Eve. But sometimes things don’t appear like the surface they are supposed to be,” Villanelle tilts her head to the right a little bit. Eve bites on her bottom lip, glaring at her.

“Has it ever come to your mind that maybe I allow you to control me? Maybe I let myself be manipulated by you, hmm?” she notices Eve clenches her fists, hands shaking. The corner of her mouth lifts. It’s almost there, she thinks. She has opened the gate for Eve, and the rest is her coming out of the cage.

“The thing is, Eve, nobody has the ability to make me submit,” she gets up from the bed, kneel by Eve’s feet, and tips her face up to smirks at Eve, eyes half closed.

“You see, I kneel before you, not because you ask me to, or you force me to, but because I simply want to. I want to kneel for you,” she puts her hands on the line of Eve’s waistband, fingertips partly dives in. She can feel Eve’s undulating hypogastrium.

“You can neither control me nor manipulate me, Eve. It’s me who do the choosing. _I_ choose to be under your domain, so don’t think too high of yourself, Eve. You’re not that special,” Villanelle leans forwards to kiss the button on Eve’s trousers. Her chin rests on Eve’s waist line to looks up at Eve.

“But don’t you worry, Eve. I’ll still give you a hand, as long as you ask nicely,” she says. Eve doesn’t respond. They watch each other in dead stillness, bodies inflating and flattening, as every breath they take now has become shorter, deeper, and heavier.

“Back off,” Eve says at last. She glares down at Villanelle. Villanelle can’t help but giggling. She draws back her hands, and her right cheek deliberately rubs on Eve’s thighs before pulling away. She catches Eve inhaling abruptly, although the sound can be barely heard. Villanelle leans back on the bed, sitting sloppily on the wooden floor with her knees to the side.

“How very soon of you to fail step one,” she hums with a nod. “Want a second chance? No?”

“Shut up, Villanelle. This isn’t about me,” Eve treads forwards, nearing Villanelle. The tips of her ankle boots almost scrape her kneecaps. Villanelle wonders whether the touch will be icy or fiery when the leather presses into her skin. She thinks she’ll allow Eve to leave special marks on her body.

“Are you telling me you would rather talk about me, Eve?” she says, her knees spreading and shutting in a loose manner.

“May I say, I’m very much flattered,” she tips her chin up, all complacent about herself. She can’t wait to hear Eve talking about her.

“You know those things you said in the meeting?”

“Which parts?”

“You said you don’t want anything, you don’t like anything, that you’re bored. Do you mean it?”

Villanelle glimpses away, then she focuses back to Eve’s face.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if you’re telling the truth or not?”

“Not really,” she knits her brows, not understanding Eve’s sudden change of the topic.

“You don’t feel anything,” Eve says. Instead of a question, her statement sounds more like she’s delivering a fact. Somehow Villanelle’s heart is stung faintly by her tone.

“What are you trying to say, Eve?”

“You don’t feel anything, that’s why you keep being a dick. You want to mess with me, provoke me, and see how I react, so that you’ll stop feeling—let me repeat it in your own words—bored,” she points out calmly. Villanelle purses her lips and gulps hard.

“What will you become if I just don’t give a shit about you anymore? _Oksana_?” she pauses to collect the conversion of the looks on Villanelle’s face, but Villanelle lowers her head shortly lest Eve finds her teary eyes.

Eve has lashed out, indeed, yet it’s not the way Villanelle thirsts after. She expects her rage to be like rambling wild fire, an Eve who can besiege her and destroy her. But right now Eve’s pouring jaggy indifference on her, a kind of coldness that brings back memories of Russia, sombre, greyish, unbearable. Villanelle grabs the belt of her kimono and violently strangles her index finger with it. Not until her finger turns red does she let go, feeling the hotness as the blood flows through.

“I remember I told you before, don’t speak to me like that, Eve,” clenching her teeth, she says, her voice choked. “I really like you, but I don’t really like you that much.”

“I can speak to you however I want.”

“So much anger, Eve,” she laughs sardonically, meanwhile shaking her head.

“Is this all because of your husband’s new affair?” hearing no response from Eve, Villanelle lifts her face, the corners of her mouth raise. “I hope they like the missionary position,” she grins broadly and says, with a teardrop falling down. Eve’s apathetic eyes fix at her unblinkingly for a while, Villanelle can feel her eyes are once again filled with tears.

“I hope you like your boring day,” Eve says coldly and turns to get her handbag and coat.

“Read the file this time and do what you can only do to take us to Rome,” Eve doesn’t look at Villanelle as she speaks. Tightening her jaw, she watches Eve’s figure going distant and distant.

“Whatever you say, boss,” she replies. As soon as the door is slammed by Eve, Villanelle lies down on the floor. She tugs away the girdle which is already loosened, recalling the warmth she felt when her body adjoined Eve’s legs. She pictures a complete alternative, in which her mouth is not used to quarrel with Eve, but to dissolve Eve’s seething wrath. The softness of her finger fondles the healed pink line. She arches her hip and whimpers rapidly.

I feel things when I’m with you, Eve, Villanelle thinks, otherwise why the scar on my stomach is from you, the come between my legs is for you.

Villanelle gets to her feet. She wipes away the wetness on her face with her palms, and she picks up the document lain at the bedside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And yet once again everything has returned to the hollow-like origin, especially the way Eve acts. Villanelle just feels so bored, so boring.

As soon as Villanelle takes off the uncomfortable wig, she impatiently pushes the hair that covers her eyes backwards, wanting to get rid of the displeasure the talk with Aaron caused a few minutes ago. She checks the phone on the piano which she forgot to bring with her, and finds 9 missed calls from Eve and 3 voicemails she supposes are from Eve as well. Villanelle’s mouth twitches, she drops the phone. Her heart is still bitter because of the episode they had this morning. If Eve thinks some phone calls and messages can deal with her, Eve will be so wrong. Villanelle is not someone whom can be messed with by Eve Polastri as she pleases. Even if Eve has promised to give her everything she wants, Villanelle hasn’t reduced herself into that needy. She takes off Billie’s clothes, and goes showering, washing out Billie’s smell of disguise.

*

Villanelle is sitting in the bathtub, her head resting on the warm wet ceramic. She plays with the idea of visiting Niko and the cat keeper she forgets the name later. She will probably beat the shit out of Niko, just for fun, for she cannot kill Niko. Villanelle does not make the same mistake. She closes her eyes and sighs, then slowly she sinks into water. Hot liquid is burning her skin, but she knows she won’t feel anything at all very soon.

At first, Villanelle thought working for Eve would be a fun thing to do. She admits, some fragments surely excited her, pleased her; for example, the exultation she gained after pushing a woman to a moving truck on the opposite side of the street, all for Eve’s sake. She observed Eve’s stunned, resented, but turned on expression. Oh, God, that was not so boring.

And yet once again everything has returned to the hollow-like origin, especially the way Eve acts. Villanelle just feels so bored, so boring.

_I do what I like, I don’t… I don’t like it._

_I’m just so bored._

She recollects what she said on the AA meeting yesterday. Maybe the substance that composed her words was not partly made up.

Villanelle’s chest stings all of a sudden. She emerges to the surface and breathes heavily. While catching her breath, she hears the creak on her wooden floor. That must be Konstantin. Villanelle rolls her eyes. Sneaky bastard, really thinks he can let himself into her apartment without fussing, and open her expensive champagne without permission, drinking from a tiny cup, seeing himself as intimidating, but it’s actually just rude. Villanelle steps out the tub, dries her body and hair with a towel, changes into her white tiger navy kimono, and walks out the bathroom with her hair dripping.

“I told you it’s not intimidating but rude, Konstantin. I don’t like rude people. What if you alarm me and I accidentally shoot your tiny head?” Villanelle shouts. She realises it is not Konstantin but Eve standing nearby her bed. Shit.

“Why are you here?” she asks, her face stern.

“You haven’t answered my calls or texted me back, so…”

“So you broke into my apartment to check on me. Wow, that’s very nice of you, Eve, thank you so much.”

“I was going to say I’d been worried.”

“Oh, Eve, you’ve got nothing to worry about. We’re going to Rome tomorrow.” Villanelle’s heart deflates a little with Eve’s words, but Villanelle pretends she doesn’t feel anything.

“We need to talk.”

“No, Eve,” she interrupts. “We don’t.”

To talk about things that have happened is boring. What even is the fun to keep doing this? Besides, Villanelle doesn’t enjoy the flavour of humiliation. She has had enough as it is.

“You can leave now,” she turns around, not wanting to look at Eve any longer, but Eve stays. What a stubborn person Eve is.

“You were right about me this morning,” Eve says. Villanelle doesn’t move her head. She looks askance at the mirror by the bed, observing Eve’s reflection. Eve’s eyes are a little swollen. It looks like she cried not a long time ago.

“That I had so much anger inside me.” Villanelle slants her head to fully perceive Eve in the mirror. Over there, Eve is gazing at her back. Right here, she is watching Eve’s side profile from another angle. It occurs to Villanelle that they always seem to be like this, receiving an incomplete image of each other through these points of view.

Villanelle understands she has to let Eve finish her confession; therefore she remain silent, accepting, with her focusing eyes on the mirror, being attentive to Eve who looks candid at this moment.

“I haven’t been sincere to you since the day we were in Forest of Dean.” Villanelle sees in the mirror that Eve’s right hand dives into her worn down hair. She gulps.

“I want to manage you, but we know it’s not the best interest for both of us. You’re just… you, Villanelle,” Eve looks at the mirror as well. Their eyes meet in the glass. Eve smiles a bit at Villanelle, who only stares calmly at Eve. “You’ve done an amazing job. I… thank you for that,” Eve sighs, as if it was very difficult for her to say so. Villanelle turns at last, facing Eve’s entity, and so does Eve.

“You know I was trying to help you this morning, right?” she blinks, blinks down the dews on her eyelashes.

“I know.”

“I thought I could make you mad, and you would lash out at me, then you’d feel a lot better for letting your anger out. Guess I was wrong,” Villanelle scratches her face.

“I was aware of what you were doing. Maybe I just didn’t want to go with it.”

“Yeah, because you’re a stubborn areshole, Eve,” she huffs, trying to blow away the hair that sticks on her nose, but she fails. Eve steps towards Villanelle and reaches out. She flinches when the fingertips touch the tip of her nose.

“Because it’s not easy for me to accept such things,” Eve looks into her eyes, her fingers wipe away the drops of water on Villanelle’s chin. Villanelle swallows.

“I know Eve, but aren’t you tired of holding back?” Villanelle falls back to the bed and exhales. “Still so much anger there, hmm?” She looks up, eyes narrow.

“You should let yourself go, once in a while,” Villanelle whispers. “I can help you,” she licks her lips and pinches the hem of Eve’s jacket, the same gesture she made in this morning. Eve doesn’t shove her away this time. The neckline of her kimono is probably loose, because she catches Eve glancing at her tits.

“You can leave me or kiss me, Eve. I won’t force you to do anything. It’s all up to you,” she says. The next second Eve bends down to hold her face, kissing her. A kiss that is gentle and simple, but Villanelle can’t help purring. Eve’s hand is swimming in her damp hair. Lips apart, Villanelle gazes at Eve, waiting for Eve’s next instruction.

“On your knees, Villanelle,” Eve says. Villanelle gets up immediately and falls into her knees in front of Eve, placing her hands on the button of Eve’s trousers.

“Are you kneeling because you choose to?”

“No, Eve. Not this time,” Eve’s left hand beside the thigh is guided to her own mouth. “I’m kneeling because I’m willing to,” she kisses Eve’s fingers reverently.

“I submit to you. Eve. I do,” she says quietly, her chin comes to rest on Eve’s knuckles.

*

Villanelle undoes Eve’s trousers, takes them off, and pulls down the clothing inside. Eve’s hands keep touching her wet hair and cheeks. The look she gives Villanelle is not the animosity in the morning. Villanelle can feel something through Eve’s eyes right now.

“I think you really like my face,” she sighs, gratified. “I get it, Eve, I know how beautiful I am.” She approaches to place kisses on Eve’s skin.

“I even know how beautiful I can be,” she gets closer, kneecaps feeling the tips of Eve’s shoes. The leather is icy, but Eve is a flame that ignites Villanelle’s whole body. She seizes Eve’s calves, her nose caresses Eve’s pubic bone and lower belly.

“Aaron stared at my mouth while I was eating spaghetti today. I thought he was interested in my mouth,” Villanelle lifts her eyes. “What about you, Eve? Are you interested?” the tip of her tongue emerges lightly, and smoothes her front teeth. “Have you ever been curious about what my mouth can do?”

“Yes.”

“Do you still think about my mouth all the time?”

“Yes,” Eve’s thumb brushes Villanelle’s open lips. “All the time.” Villanelle smiles contentedly.

“I want to tell you things, Eve. Can I do that?”

“Yes, Villanelle. You can tell me, all of it.”

Villanelle dips in with a low hum, tasting Eve patiently, slowly, telling Eve so many things by her mouth and tongue. Eve comes in her mouth; she drips a little. Villanelle should have withdrawn, perhaps; she however, has no intention to pause. She continues her sunken ceremony but she gets brought down by Eve, fiercely, as Eve gasps, then she is pinned down on the mattress behind her. Eve’s one hand props on the bed, the other grips Villanelle’s jaw. She lies backwards, her nape forced against the bed. The wedding band on Eve’s ring finger presses into the throbbing veins on her neck, blocking her from breathing. Villanelle moans, while remembering to work her mouth and tongue.

Eve chokes her roughly, rubbing on her mouth with great force. She feels she is about to be asphyxiated. The urge to cough makes her scalp numb. Her throat moves up and down rapidly. She begins to whine erratically. She goes inside Eve and herself clumsily. Villanelle has promised Eve to help. Villanelle will do everything she can do for Eve.

They come uncontrollably on each other, bodies shaking, collapsing together.

Eve releases Villanelle, and braces herself against the bedside, panting. Villanelle curls up weakly by the cabinet leg, sobbing. Her face is bathed in tears and Eve’s cum.

*

Hands in pockets, Villanelle follows Niko and Gemma into the warehouse under faint light. She pauses on the corner, waiting for them to walk into the storeroom. She hears the click-clack echoing around the corridor, and her mind goes back to the snatches in the evening before Eve left.

“You were wrong about my not feeling things, Eve,” she said as Eve knelt beside her to gather up her limp body. “I feel things when I’m with you,” she said softly. “I cannot name them, but they are here,” she took Eve’s hand to feel her bare chest.

“So, not so bored then?”

“Not so bored,” she said. Eve squinted and grinned.

“One last thing, Villanelle.”

“Yes?”

“I know you can take care of yourself, but…”

“But?”

Eve fixed her eyes on Villanelle for a while. “Just, be safe, okay?”

“Okay,” Villanelle shrugged, she didn’t understand why Eve was this worried. Eve tilted her head to kiss the cheek near her ear, then she got on her feet, pulling up her trousers, tidying her blouse. Villanelle raised her head and looked at Eve who was standing against the light. Her chest suddenly felt funny.

“See you in Rome,” Eve said. Villanelle nodded. Hugging her knees on the floor, she watched Eve’s back getting far away.

She began to ponder. She was afraid that Eve probably, they probably—

“I could… always do more,” Gemma abruptly cuts out her recalling. She sighs, and walks to the door, leaning on the steel door frame.

“Ugh. Get a room,” Villanelle says, her hand in the pocket squeezes the penknife. She can do nothing but smirk when Niko’s face is like that.

“You always look so annoyed to see me,” she looks around casually and finds a crystal ball on the shelf. The word Alaska is printed on it. Her eyes brighten.

She grabs the crystal ball, beaming broadly, and strolling towards the storeroom in dimness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it took me almost two months to found out there was a typo in my title. Please look away :P

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: @lofihomo


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